Lady Adelaide's Second Chance
by Mithihotep the Indomitable
Summary: Lady Adelaide Midwinter leaves Candleford for the thriving metropolis of London, where she might finally find a gentleman who loves nobody but her, but little will she realise that this will transport her to a new and unfamiliar life in the south of England. The first of an AU saga with some Victorian Sci-Fi aspects later on. Rated K as there is little conflict or threat in it.


**It is about time there was some Lady Adelaide fanfiction on here! I have recently developed an interest in In Her Majesty's Name, a Victorian sci-fi wargame where you can create your own skirmish companies, and the formation of my company is based around this Lady Adelaide x OC romance fic. The first chapter revolves around an AU Lark Rise to Candleford situation ****at the end of Series 1 ****where Lady Adelaide doesn't become pregnant but she and Sir Timothy still move to London. I do not own Lady Adelaide, Sir Timothy or any of the other Lark Rise to Candleford characters, but Lord Renwick and the other original characters are from my own devising.**

Chapter 1

A bright summer sunset cascaded in through the glass windows of the Manor house, now bare and bold without the curtains and other drapery to surround them. Indeed the whole house had been stripped of furniture - all that was left was the cold stone walls that harked back to the Manor's founding in Queen Elizabeth's reign, and the wooden panelling put in three hundred years after to make the place look more like a home inside, and less like a tomb.

Of the house's current occupants, only one remained a while longer to walk its halls - the Lady Adelaide Midwinter. Her dutiful servants had all left the place to install themselves in her new home in London, and taken her furniture with them - she would soon be following, alongside her husband Timothy, but at the moment he was wayward in the nearby market town of Candleford, participating in a party with nearly everyone else in the town. Of course, it was not the sort of party Adelaide was used to, otherwise she would have been there herself - instead of the illustrious scores played by a classical orchestra, the music was reportedly to be provided by a couple of the locals from the isolated village of Lark Rise from over the other side of the hill equipped with a banjo and an accordion. Instead of the finest pastries, dinners, puddings and beverages made by the greatest cooks in the British Empire, the menu was supposed to feature simple breads, muffins and cask ales. Instead of ballroom dancing and witty conversation, the activities schedule involved simple peasant dances, childrens' entertainment and local gossip. All in all, not the sort of event suitable for an elegant lady like Adelaide, or indeed, her well-to-do squire husband. Yet Timothy still had gone to this fiasco. He said that he was going to congratulate an old friend of his called Zillah, for it was apparently her birthday that was the cause of the celebrations, but Adelaide knew that that wasn't the only reason he was going. He was also travelling to visit _her_. Again.

Adelaide couldn't understand what it was about this simple postmistress that ensnared her husband so - he had his father's position as squire, this great house to live comfortably in, dozens and dozens of magnificent things to display in it, a pretty and loving wife, yet he still risked dicing with the rules of society for the attentions of the owner of a small, cramped post office. Of course, he had made the decision to return to London to please Adelaide herself, and she was indeed grateful for his care and kindness, but as his wife, surely did she not deserve his love as well? It wasn't as if this postmistress was even an equal to Adelaide - she may be fair of face and kind in manner, but she had not the knowledge of civilised behaviours, the fashionable elegance, and certainly not the breeding of the lady of the Manor. Yet for all this, it was still her that was the recipient of Timothy's affections. Adelaide was unsure in whether the postmistress actively encouraged her husband to go behind her back in this way or if she was indifferent, but the way she stole Timothy from her like this corrupted Adelaide's view of Candleford and Lark Rise - in any normal situation, Adelaide would have marvelled at the beautiful vistas of the green countryside. She could have sat outside and painted pictures of such natural beauty every morning. She could even have tolerated the antics of the residents (not least the insufferable crawling and rumourmongering of the Pratt sisters), but every time she even looked out of one of the Manor House windows at the hills around Lark Rise, or travelled to Candleford to procure a new dress, she just couldn't stop associating the location with this cursed postmistress. It was if Dorcas was a malevolent demon that had been sent by the Devil to torture Adelaide - had Adelaide been too cold and vindictive once too often? Had she shown the people of Lark Rise and Candleford too little patience and acceptance? Had Adelaide been too frivolous in her spending of important family finances in luxuries? She didn't know. All she did know was that the postmistress must be something of a smiling assassin that had targeted Adelaide just because she was of the wrong class to marry a fine man like Sir Timothy while Adelaide herself had just the right breeding. After all, according to Shakespeare, jealousy was the green-eyed monster, and that monster seemed to have it in for her...

These thoughts rang out strongly and passionately from Adelaide's mind against the frigid silence of the empty drawing room she stood in as she waited patiently for her husband's return.

Ignorant of Adelaide's vigil, time continued to drag itself on, until darkness began to creep its way over the house like an abyssal duvet cover. What looked like dark, ensnaring fingers crept in at the windows - Adelaide knew that they were nothing more than the shadows of the branches of the nearby trees, but they still evoked an eerie, skeletal quality, and as they lengthened they approached Adelaide, almost as if they were tempting her to abandon her proud position in response to her husband's frivolity.

Oh, where was Timothy? What could he be doing over there that was making him take so long?

Adelaide could have gone to sit in their carriage by now, but she just wanted to give a last farewell to their country home - she may not have liked the country as much as London, but she had still loved the house for as long as they had stayed in it. Five years she had spent planning the decor of the rooms, visiting shops to procure chinaware and curios to adorn the shelves and mantlepieces and managing the decoration process. Adelaide loved a comfortable home, and was dedicated to making sure that every room looked exactly as she had envisioned. Now those five years had come to nought, and she would have to endure the decorating process all over again. It was not that her servants were particularly incompetent or foolish, but if Lady Adelaide had one flaw, it was that she was impatient. She wanted things to be done as quickly and efficiently as possible, and the way that the servants had bumbled about trying to decorate the rooms in this house had left her almost wanting to push them out of the way and do it all herself regardless of what Timothy or anyone else would have said - indeed if she wasn't in a position where such things were deemed beneath her she would have most certainly done so.

"Adelaide?"

She turned toward the voice that spoke her name, and there was her dear Timothy, standing in the doorway of the manor in his usual relaxed nature.

"Oh, Timothy," she replied to him with her thoughts all a flutter, "I was just having a last look round the house before we go, just in case anything important had been left behind by mistake.

"A sensible thing to do in most hours of the day," he said kindly, "but we really should be going now. We have a long way to go before we get to London, and I'm sure you know how perilous such a journey can be in the dark. I am sorry for my lateness, but I had to say goodbye to everyone in Candleford before we went, as this party was the last time they would see their squire."

Something dark inside Adelaide's mind whispered to her to retort some sort of remark about paying special attention to say goodbye to that postmistress Miss Lane, but Adelaide knew that such words would be the talk of a paranoid, distrustful wife. She longed with all her heart that Timothy could be trusted to remain faithful to her, so she would give him that chance.

"Of course," she thus replied simply.

He offered her his hand, and she wandered over to him and took it gently. He led her out of the doorway, and closed the manor doors with a resounding slam, the sound of an old home, and in some ways even an old life, being left behind. The couple then walked over to their waiting carriage and got into its comfortable confines, whereupon Timothy signaled to the driver to start. The last Adelaide would ever see of that beautiful manor house was the ancient image of its Neo-Classical frontage fading into the grey summer night behind them.


End file.
